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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29523138">It's All In Your Head</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMoochy/pseuds/MissMoochy'>MissMoochy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>MissMoochy's FebuWhump 2021 Oneshots [11]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man/Deadpool - Joe Kelly (Comics)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Crushes, Deadpool Thought Boxes, FebuWhump2021, Hallucinations, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mean Deadpool Thought Boxes, No Smut, POV Wade Wilson, Sad, Self-Esteem Issues, Wade Wilson Needs A Hug</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 17:08:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,203</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29523138</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMoochy/pseuds/MissMoochy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>FebuWhump 2021 Day 11: [Hallucinations]</p><p>It’s all in his head. The voices he hears, the hallucinations he sees. Sure, but that doesn’t make it any less real.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Peter Parker/Wade Wilson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>MissMoochy's FebuWhump 2021 Oneshots [11]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2136714</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>52</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>It's All In Your Head</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“This is really good.” Peter’s voice was muffled, as he wiped his lips on a piece of tissue. “I used to walk past that place all the time, but I never went in.”</p><p>“Yeah. It’s pretty good.” Wade glanced at him, just a peek, a side look. Peter didn’t notice, he was steadily chomping his way through his cheeseburger. It was almost as big as his face. Okay, that was an exaggeration, but not by much! And Peter insisted on them piling on the grilled onions. He was a relatively graceful eater, he chewed with his mouth closed and didn’t make any goofy noises. But that was Peter all over. He was a lot more polite than the crew Wade normally ran with.</p><p>He’d never dreamed that one day, he’d be sitting on a park bench, eating cheap burgers with <em> Spider-Man. </em> Since they’d first met, Wade had made it his mission to stick to Spidey like one of his webs, and it had paid off. Peter actually considered Deadpool to be an ally, now. And he considered Wade to be a friend.</p><p>Wade hid his smile in his burger. God, he loved this guy.</p><p>What made this night special to him, was that it was a social call. Spidey had texted him and asked if he wanted to hang out. There were no foes to fight, no dramatic battle scenes and more importantly, no Spider-Man or Deadpool. Just Peter and Wade. He’d never thought he could get as much enjoyment sitting on a park bench as he derived from his merc work, but Peter had a knack for smoothing out Wade’s rough edges.</p><p>
  <b>[Aw. Looks like our guy’s a closet romantic.]</b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>(He’s never been in the closet in his life!)</em> </b>
</p><p>Wade rolled his eyes. There they were, once again. Whenever he had a quiet moment, the boxes would appear. Their text flashed in his eyes and when he blinked, the thick, black font was imprinted on the backs of his eyelids. He blinked it away. Stupid boxes.</p><p>“It’s been a quiet night…”</p><p>Wade honed in on Peter’s soft words.</p><p>“It's been eally quiet. I actually love it when New York gets like this. I know they call it the city that never sleeps, but maybe it’s taking a power nap.” Peter chuckled at his own joke. Wade smiled too, bumped his knee against Peter’s, denim on denim. It earned him a side smile.</p><p>“It’s nice like this,” Wade said and Peter nodded. “When it’s dark like this but you’ve got the lampposts lit up, it’s like, um, you know when you’re a kid and you lie under the covers but you keep your flashlight on?”</p><p>Peter smiled incredulously. “You used to read by flashlight? Don’t tell me baby Wade Wilson was a little bookworm, reading in bed.”</p><p>“Nah, I hated books. I kept the flashlight for — monsters.” His smile dropped. The only real monster had been his dad, beating the shit out of him every night. It was a lesson he’d learned at a young age but still carried with him. The worst monsters are human.</p><p>Peter nudged him with his elbow. “Don’t worry, no monsters are going to come and get you. Spider-Man’s watching over you.”</p><p>Wade grinned so wide his cheeks ached. “Yeah? Why’s he wanna waste his time protecting <em>me?”</em></p><p>“Maybe you were born under a lucky star. Or—” Peter ducked his head. “—maybe he likes you.”</p><p>Time didn’t slow down as it does in the movies, but there might have been a flicker or a blip where time just — didn’t exist. Lost all meaning. And it phased back and Wade was still sitting there, staring at him. And Peter was looking anywhere but at Wade’s face. Nervous gaze sweeping over his soda bottle to settle on the knees of his ripped jeans.</p><p>“Peter,” Wade whispered. He thought that if he spoke louder, he might kill whatever this was that existed between them. Everything Wade touched turned to shit. Everything he loved died. The only things that were left were never his to begin with. He didn’t think he could handle it if Spider-Man…</p><p>
  <b>[He doesn’t like you. Seriously.]</b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>(Yeah. You’re a nice guy but have you looked in the mirror, lately?)</em> </b>
</p><p>Wade cursed and Peter pulled back. Shit. He hadn’t even realised Peter had been leaning in. Had Peter leant in because he wanted a kiss? Is that why he was looking at Wade’s mouth and no, now his gaze was firmly on Wade’s eyes—</p><p>
  <b>[He’d never want to kiss those gross, ragged lips.]</b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>(If you wore a bag on your head, you might have a shot.)</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b>[Missionary sex is probably out, too. Imagine lying on your back with this ugly bastard plugging into you. That Freddy Krueger face gurning down at you.]</b>
</p><p><em> Stop it, </em>Wade thought, and White laughed.</p><p>
  <b>[I’ve hurt the monster’s feelings? That’s ironic. You hurt everybody you meet. You’re a walking landmine, buddy.]</b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>(It’s not his fault. He can’t help being such a screw-up.)</em> </b>
</p><p>“Yeah, thanks, Yellow,” Wade muttered.</p><p>“Wade? You okay?”</p><p>
  <b> <em>(We’re only saying this because we’re looking out for you—)</em> </b>
</p><p>“Bullshit,” Wade snapped. “When have you chucklefucks ever given a damn about me? All you do is mess with my head!”</p><p>Peter glanced around. “Who are you talking to?”</p><p><b> <em>(We do care about you. We’ve stuck by you, haven’t we? We never leave your side</em> </b> <em> — </em> <b> <em>)</em> </b></p><p>
  <b>[Except for the times this creep shoots himself in the head to try and get rid of us. It never works though, does it?]</b>
</p><p>“It gets you out of there for a bit,” Wade said, but it was a hollow victory. The temporary suicide never lasted for very long. A shot to the head and maybe he’d get a couple of hours of blissful rest, but he’d soon wake up with his healing skin pushing the warped bullet out his skull. And the boxes would be back and they’d<em> laugh. </em></p><p>
  <b>(You don’t want us out of your head. You don’t want to be stuck with your own company, do you?)</b>
</p><p>
  <b>[We’re all you’ve got, fucker. For the rest of time. You can’t die, remember? Everybody you love will croak. Spider-Man’s got, what, fifty years left? Al’s got maybe ten. Weasel? Who knows, with all the coke he does. They’re all going to die and you’re going to wake up one morning, see your ugly face in the mirror and realise you’re completely, utterly alone, Wade.]</b>
</p><p>“Shut up!” Wade screamed. He slammed his fist down on the bench and felt something click. His fist, not the bench. A faint click and pulse of pain, some minor bone got broken. Whatever.</p><p>“I’m fucking sick of both of you freaks, leave me alone! I’m not alone, I’m not stuck with you anymore! I’ve got friends. Yeah, Al and Weasel and all the rest. Spider-Man. He’s my friend and he loves me and he understands me more than any of you do and — “ He broke off, realising that he must sound even more crazy than usual. What was Peter thinking about him right now? But when he looked, there was no slim, brown-haired guy smiling at him.</p><p>“Peter?”</p><p>
  <b>[He left. About ten minutes into your temper tantrum.]</b>
</p><p>Wade slowly sat back down.</p>
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